


The Lazarus Effect

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Don't Be Fooled By The Dramatic Title, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underlying Feelings And Conflict And Junk, domestic aokuro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: It's never easy to mend something broken, especially when it wasn't a clean break to begin with, but as they say, often times a broken bone will heal twice as strong.Or, Kuroko's thoughts upon waking up in Aomine's bed after two months of trying again.





	The Lazarus Effect

After almost two months, it starts to sink in that it won’t be temporary this time.

 

The revelation doesn’t hit Tetsuya the exact moment he wakes up, in a bed that’s starting to feel less and less like someone else’s, with a warm, heavy arm draped loosely around his waist beneath the duvet, holding him close.

 

It doesn’t hit him when he rolls over, without rousing Aomine-kun from his slumber (few things short of a tectonic shift could manage that), and notices he’s close enough to count every one of those long, dark lashes if he wanted to. Close enough to feel Aomine-kun’s breath fanning across his face between his slightly parted lips. And, frankly, close enough to smell it, but even after he’s come to the gradual conclusion that he doesn’t really mind the morning foulness, it still hasn’t hit him yet.

 

It doesn’t even hit him when he swings his legs over the side of the bed and immediately finds the second, smaller pair of house slippers laid out next to Aomine-kun’s boat-sized ones like the most natural thing in the world. Not even when he remembers that he wasn’t the one who put them there, or indeed, the one who bought them in the first place. Not even then.

 

No, it finally hits him, that this might very well be the start of the rest of his life, after he walks into Aomine-kun’s bathroom and lifts the toilet seat, after he’s halfway through doing his business and realizes, with a kind of shattering clarity, that he left the door wide open behind him. That’s when it hits him.

 

It’s a rather alarming realization for a number of reasons, not least because he closes the bathroom door in his _own_ house, if for no other reason then to deter Nigou from following him in, and yet it didn’t cross his mind for a minute to try to deter Aomine-kun. And he’s still puzzling over that fact, standing idle over the porcelain bowl, when a low, gravelly voice speaks over his shoulder.

 

“Hey, if you’re done, scoot over so someone else can piss.”

 

“Good morning to you too,” Tetsuya says calmly, accepting the answering rasp of dry lips and early stubble before tucking himself back into his briefs, and stepping aside as bid to switch on the faucet.

 

For a moment, the only sound is of running water, which isn’t, in itself, unusual. Silences between them are common and comfortable, more often than not. Silence is Tetsuya’s personal paradigm; his status quo, as it were, and before nine am, Aomine-kun doesn’t go out of his way to breach it. But there is one silence that is not so in keeping with the natural order of things.

 

“I didn’t hear you get up,” Tetsuya says at length, looking up from his sudsy hands to peer at Aomine-kun’s face. Politely avoiding staring any lower, though he’s willing to bet Aomine-kun wouldn’t grant him the same courtesy, and it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before.

 

“I _never_ hear you get up,” Aomine-kun answers, looking at the wall. His legs and feet are uncovered, and the seams of his T-shirt stand out as harsh, everted ridges around his shoulders and neck. Tetsuya frowns, his wet hands hovering over the sink, imagining him throwing it on inside out as he rushes out of his empty room, his bare feet too hurried to make a sound.

 

There are no hand towels or face towels in Aomine-kun’s apartment, there are just towels. Far too large and heavy for the hooks they’re hanging from, but it’s not worth bringing up right now. Tetsuya dries his hands on one and turns around, a troubled thought germinating on the tip of his tongue.

 

Aomine-kun beats him to the punch, as usual, by changing the subject.

 

“What’s for breakfast?”

 

Tetsuya blinks, and then shakes his head with a tiny, forbearing smile. It’s always the same question, like he expects Tetsuya to bring his own groceries with him whenever he stays over.

 

“What do you have?”

 

“Uh...I’ve got eggs, I think?” Aomine-kun says, with a concerning lack of certainty.

 

“How many?”

 

Aomine-kun’s eyes flit to the bathroom ceiling contemplatively. Tetsuya waits.

 

“I’ll check,” he says finally, giving up and starting toward the door. Tetsuya holds out a hand to stop him.

 

“Wash your hands, I’ll check.”

 

Opening Aomine-kun’s fridge feels almost the same as opening his own, except for the sinking mixture of horror and dismay that always greets him when he sees how destitute it is. A styrofoam takeout box here, half a bottle of soy sauce there; nothing even close to resembling a vegetable, except for a jar of wrinkled shishito peppers on the bottom shelf. There is a carton with six eggs in the door, but one look at the expiration date assures Tetsuya that they won’t be suitable for breakfast...or anything but compost, really.

 

Gingerly placing the carton in the trash can with a sigh, he heads back into the bedroom to throw on some pants, and casts about for his keys.

 

“Going somewhere?” Aomine-kun asks from the doorway, the shadow of his large frame obstructing the light from the hallway nearly swallowing Tetsuya whole. He sounds suspicious, but not accusing.

 

“Your eggs are deplorable,” Tetsuya says simply, shoving his keys into his pocket and turning to face him, “We’ll have to go to the store before we can have breakfast.”

 

The furrow between Aomine-kun’s eyebrows eases, but he still doesn’t look pleased as he steps into the room. “Why can’t we just go out to eat?”

 

“Because,” Tetsuya says, “You should have some real food in your house every now and then. Eating out all the time isn’t good for you, or your wallet.”

 

Aomine-kun lets out a petulant groan, folding a pair of jeans against his chest, “But I’m hungry _now…”_

 

“It won’t take long,” Tetsuya assures him, with a tiny, teasingly wheedling smile, “Then I can make you anything you like.”

 

“Psh,” Aomine-kun snorts, “You only know how to cook like, three things, get out.”

 

For a second, Tetsuya’s blood runs cold, even though he knows, he _knows,_ that Aomine-kun didn’t mean it like that this time. And when he looks, Aomine-kun’s dismissive air has vanished as well, as he seems to realize what just came out of his mouth.

 

“Ah...Tetsu, I didn’t --” he says quickly, stumbling toward him with only one leg in his jeans and worry written plain all over his face.  

 

“It’s fine,” Tetsuya interrupts, taking a deep breath and averting his gaze, letting it travel absently around the room as he steadies himself. Rumpled blue duvet, enormous house slippers, equally enormous bare tan feet...

 

_Get out._

 

He expels both the breath and the bitter memory in a rush, sternly pushing it down and reminding himself, for what feels like the hundredth time, that things are different now. They’re different. Immediately, he starts to feel a bit warmer, and looks back to find Aomine-kun staring at him intently, his jeans a crumpled, forgotten mess around his ankles.

 

“Tetsu?” he says, “I was just kidding, honest, I...I wasn’t thinking...”

 

“I know. It’s okay.” Reaching for his smile, for his forgiveness, he nudges Aomine-kun’s hip lightly with his own, “You should pull your pants up, though.”

 

Aomine-kun scrambles to do just that, fingers fumbling clumsily with the fly as he continues to search Tetsuya’s face, far from convinced by his robotic assurance. Tetsuya supposes that’s only fair; he’s having a hard enough time convincing himself.

 

He turns and reaches out a hand for his phone on the bedside table, but Aomine-kun intercepts it, meshing their fingers together and pulling him around.

 

“Hey...look at me,” he murmurs, and Tetsuya does. Really looks at him, and sees the pang of regret in his hooded eyes, the stricken imprint of teeth in his lower lip.

 

When he smiles this time it’s smaller, but surer, as he draws Aomine-kun closer and cups his free hand around his nape. He tastes like mint toothpaste and tap water, and his chin is still coarse like morning when it presses light and hesitant against Tetsuya’s own. Then he catches on, releasing a shaky breath through his nose, and accepts Tetsuya fully.

 

“So...breakfast?” Tetsuya prompts when the kiss breaks, the corner of his mouth kicking up again slightly.

 

Aomine-kun’s teeth flash right back at him, exuding relief, “Whatever you want.”

 

 

*******

 

 

The next time Tetsuya wakes up, in a bed that’s starting to feel less and less like someone else’s, in a tiny, untidy apartment that’s starting to feel more and more like home, in the arms of a heavy sleeper who’s starting to become more and more of a morning person, he takes a moment to really reflect on the idea that’s been buzzing around in the periphery of his thoughts, the past few days.

 

This will be the start of the rest of his life.

 

As he stares up at the light fixture on the ceiling above Aomine-kun’s bed -- the one that doesn’t work anymore because neither of them can figure out how to unscrew it to change the bulb -- listening to Aomine-kun snoring into his pillow beside him, he gradually comes to the conclusion that that thought isn’t entirely accurate. This is not the start of the _rest_ of his life. This is his life. Starting now.

 

It isn’t to say that he hasn’t been living in the twenty-two years preceding this moment, that he’d somehow been a dead man walking until waking in Aomine-kun’s arms, coming online to his rattling snores and morning breath. No, the verdict he’s arriving at now is that everything that happened in the past, all the bitter words and silent fights leading to the sudden, unclean break between them, have finally been buried for good. And now, that very soil has been given the right ingredients and care to foster the first shoots of a brand new beginning.

 

It isn’t resurrection. It’s rebirth.

 

It’s still fragile, this thing between them; still young and green and susceptible to killing frost, but Aomine-kun has already demonstrated his willingness to offer a sheltering arm, to breathe warmth back into Tetsuya and allow them both the opportunity to grow back stronger. And as he turns his head to the side to see Aomine-kun’s face gone lax with sleep, one arm thrown across the pillow above Tetsuya’s head, the other curled snugly around his back, holding him close, he thinks it’s pretty safe to say that he’s committed this time. He’s not letting Tetsuya go without a fight.

 

He does, however, let Tetsuya slip out of his grasp with only a muzzy, halfhearted mumble, hardly rousing for a moment as his snores resume immediately. And after sliding his feet into the smaller pair of house slippers, arranged in their place right next to Aomine-kun’s giant ones, Tetsuya stops and looks back at him over his shoulder. His face still relaxed and unaware, his arms still outstretched, fingers reaching and curled around nothing. Tetsuya frowns and comes back to the bed.

 

“Aomine-kun,” he murmurs, firmly shaking his shoulder when this yields no response.

 

Aomine-kun’s eyes squint open, his face scrunching with a flicker of the annoyance Tetsuya expected upon being disturbed prematurely from sleep.  

 

“I’m getting up now,” he says, by way of explanation, stroking his hand along Aomine-kun’s shoulder in apology as he removes it.

 

He’s prepared for complaining, for irritable sighs and resentful grumbling for being woken up just for that. He’s not prepared for Aomine-kun’s pinched expression to instantly go smooth, a small, relieved smile curving his mouth.

 

“Okay, thanks,” is all he says before his eyes fall closed again, his arms stretching over his head as he rolls over and, presumably, goes right back to sleep. Put at ease by the assurance that he won’t be alone when he wakes.

 

Tetsuya smiles softly at his back before he leaves the room, because that means his hunch was right after all. He grabs his shirt off the floor and heads out to face the day, imagining the little green sprout of _something_ between them starting to take root at last.

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Hoooo boy this one's been in the drafts for a long time. I'm really glad to finally get it done somehow, though it ended up kinda short. I'm not used to writing short.
> 
> The world needs more domestic AoKuro, and I must provide, even if it still comes out with an undertone of sad.
> 
> Comments and kudos give me life, thanks for reading! <3


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